Forest Fire
by Sleepless In Chicago
Summary: Life hasn't been kind to Layla in the years after Sky High. She's almost given up on herself when she bumps into a familiar face unexpectedly. Layla/Warren slow burn
1. Withering

**Hello! Thanks for stopping by! Layla and Warren have always been my favorite Sky High couple, and I've always wanted to delve into Layla's brain, since she had the potential to be so much more complex. I feel like this is going to be a longer fic, and it'll touch on some serious issues like mental health and domestic abuse, but I only want to continue if people are enjoying the story, so please let me know! Sexy scenes won't appear until later in the story. This chapter is mostly laying out the scene for the rest of the story, we'll meet Warren in the next chapter!**

* * *

There had been a slight change in the breeze over the last few weeks. The gentle scent of Spring began to grace Maxville. Years ago, Layla had told herself that she'd move on to bigger and better things, yet here she was, still stuck in suburban hell. After college, it was easiest to come back here and settle into her mom's house, which then became her house when mom left. Her mother had decided to travel the world, saving animals from cruel fates everywhere she went. And Layla? She was all alone in that big house.

Sometimes, she missed Will. College had destroyed them. While she was off studying botany and biosciences, he was chasing a different sorority girl each week. The worst part was that he never admitted his mistakes, only blamed them on her lack of time. They both graduated and began to walk their separate ways. And, as expected, he was handed the reigns of Stronghold Realty, as well as the responsibility of being Maxville's primary superhero. That was short-lived.

Once the Commander and Jetstream unveiled their precious Freedom Fighter, it didn't take long for supers to flock around him like fruit flies, all begging to be his partner. He eventually settled on Star, a gorgeous woman who could create blinding rays of light and small explosives. A useless power 95% of the time, sure, but it complemented his all-American theme. He always was attracted to the pretty ones, and Layla never quite fit that bill.

Layla didn't stay very close with any of her old friends from Sky High, but she still checked in from time to time. Everyone except Will held a non-super job. Zach was the proud owner of a club, and occasionally he'd flaunt his power as a novelty on packed nights. Magenta worked at an animal shelter; she found that she could communicate better with animals rather than people, especially in guinea pig form. Ethan was off being an actuary, which was terribly normal and just as boring as it sounded. She'd heard that Warren was now in a high profile position, but she'd been too embarrassed to call and chat with him. Somehow, they were all happy. And Layla? She didn't know where to go, she didn't fit in anywhere. So for now, she was the mayor's lead landscaper. It was an easy job with high pay, but compared to her former friends, especially Will, she felt she'd amounted to nothing.

And today, on her day off, she found herself curled up on the couch with a glass of wine, watching her ex and his new lady all over the news for defeating some villain. Why she was indulging in self pity like this was beyond her, but she couldn't stop looking at their smiles, their powers, their happiness. Maybe she didn't deserve happiness.

 _Maybe I don't deserve to be..._

Her cell rang, distracting her from the thought at hand.

"Hello?" she answered brightly, unable to admit her personal defeat to anyone else.

"Layla, just the woman I wanted to reach!" Mayor Madeline Price's charming voice was always welcome. That was one good thing to come out of this job; Layla had befriended one of the most powerful people in the city. "Are you coming in today? We just received a large shipment of peonies for the spring and I'd love if you could have the staff start on them today!"

"Depends, can I make tomorrow my day off then?" She heard Madeline gasp on the other end, obviously having forgotten that today was Friday.

"It totally slipped my mind!" Madeline laughed it off. "Of course you can have tomorrow off, you can have the whole weekend off, but if you can't make it today, don't worry about it!" Layla wasn't doing anything better with her time, but sometimes she just needed the day to sit and sip something vaguely alcoholic.

 _And feel sorry for yourself._

She pushed the irritating thought away, returning to the matter at hand.

"I can come in," she said, mustering a smile though no one was watching. "I'll be there in a half hour, we'll start planting those peonies around the courtyard."

"Layla, you're a godsend!" She couldn't help but smile a little more at Madeline's words. "Listen, if you're free after your work, I'll be throwing a small party for some stuffy rich people and I'd love if you'd come!"

"You sure I'm important enough, Madi?" Sometimes she wondered if Madeline even realized she was the gardener and not a wealthy socialite.

"You're important to me, therefore you're important enough for a silly party," she expertly replied, making Layla feel a little better. "I'm taking your momentary silence as a yes, so bring a nice dress, I'll see you soon!"

"See you soon," Layla near whispered before she hung up. Whatever happened today, it would beat watching Will on the news.

* * *

The mayor's manor was quite a sight; there were beautiful columns holding up most of the building, inspired by the White House, decorated in a lovely eggshell color and accented by a rich maroon. It was a grand mansion, but Layla's favorite part was the backyard.

When Madeline hired her, she'd said that she wanted to integrate the greenery and flora into as much of the land as possible, and Layla had done just that. The marble sitting benches and freestanding pillars were wrapped in creepers, small flowers poking out every inch or two. The courtyard had a different design every day, made up of vibrant buds and fully bloomed day lilies, chrysanthemums, aster, and coreopsis. Those who visited Mayor Price often just thought she spent a lot on gardening, but Madeline was fortunate enough to have the 'plant priestess', as she jokingly called Layla.

In a few hours, Layla's team had almost all of the peonies planted around the courtyard, and a few hours later, when everyone had clocked out for the day, Layla would work some magic on the flowers and help them bloom. Peonies were lovely in the Spring, and they'd fit well with the rest of the courtyard garden. Madeline had ordered them in numerous shades, so the options were endless when it came to design.

A strong jolt to the shoulder brought Layla back from her thoughts. After turning, it was evident that the smack was simply a friendly gesture of praise from Madeline. She looked ecstatic.

"I keep saying there's nothing you can't do, and every time you prove me right!" Layla uncomfortably accepted the compliment with a shy smile. "So did you bring a dress?"

Oops.

"Madi," she started, already watching her friend's face shift into irritation, "I don't think I should go, it's for socialites and important people and I'm neither."

"Layla, I invited you," she countered. "I like that you're not a socialite." They walked over to a marble bench, Madeline's arm sneaking around her shoulder. "Look, a couple of months ago, I hired you to garden, and you've not only become head landscaper, but you've also quickly become a better political advisor than the ones I hire. You keep me grounded and remind me not to let the power go to my head. And," she added with a kind smile, "you've quickly become one of my favorite people." Layla could only imagine the flush on her skin; compliments were really not her thing. "I'm asking you to come as my friend, and if not that, then as an occasional political advisor."

"I'm not even a political advisor though," Layla continued to argue. Madeline rolled her eyes.

"Do you want to be?"

"Yeah, right," she laughed. Madeline didn't seem to share the humor.

Oh.

 _Oh._

"You're being serious?"

"I told you," she said, sitting up straighter, "you've been a great asset to me. I couldn't have closed half of the environmental deals we've made without your professional expertise. And, I recently let two of my advisors go."

Layla let this news sink in for a moment, still surprised. Was she really cut out for this?

"Listen," Madeline stood, bringing Layla up with her, "take the weekend to figure out if that's something you want. If not, you'll still be my favorite landscaper and confidante. But, you _are_ coming to this party, and that's final." Layla took one look at Madeline's face and sighed. When Ms. Mayor set her mind to something, she was going to get it. And unlike Madeline, Layla was never in a mood to argue anymore.

"I don't have anything to wear," she pointed out a valid flaw in Madeline's plan.

"Lucky for you, I've got the closet of a Kardashian," she laughed, leading Layla into the manor. She sensed Layla's apprehension and sighed. "Come on, it'll be like those dress-up sleepovers we used to do in high school." Unbeknownst to Madeline, Layla never did that, mostly because Magenta scared her a little and the rest of her friends were boys. "You need to have some fun, and I need to have a friendly face there. Please?"

 _I never could say no._

"Alright, let's do this," she mumbled under Madeline's cheers.

Maybe Madeline was right.

 _Maybe I do need to have some fun._

One night of fun. What could go wrong?

* * *

 **So, what did you think? Let me know in the reviews! I appreciate any feedback, even if you didn't like the story, so please be honest! I've started writing after years now and this is only my second story, so I'm still trying to get back into the swing of things! Anyways, thanks for giving it a chance, and happy reading!**


	2. Burned

**Warning: This story includes depictions of depression and suicidal thoughts, as well as mention of domestic abuse, sexual assault, and other serious topics.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Sky High or any of its characters.**

* * *

"You look gorgeous," Madeline smiled, looking at Layla in the full-length mirror. She could hardly believe her own eyes; the strapless, floor-length obsidian gown hung regally on her slender form. She didn't notice in her usual sweaters and jeans, but in this dress, she could clearly see that she'd gotten much thinner. Her red hair was neatly done up in a French twist, courtesy of Madeline's stylist, and her hazel eyes suddenly seemed smoky and alluring thanks to the makeup Madeline had put on her. Layla usually didn't like to be fussed over, but Madeline was right. She _did_ look gorgeous.

 _Will doesn't know what he's missing out on._

And there is was again, the need to show him what he'd lost. Why couldn't she just let him go?

"What are you thinking about?" Madeline interrupted her silent inner turmoil. It took her a second to realize that a question had been asked. She smiled sweetly, eager to put her mind off Will.

"How thankful I am for all of this, and for you," she replied, turning to face her kind-hearted friend. Madeline gestured as if to say 'it's nothing', though Layla knew that was untrue.

Madeline looked stunning in her pearlescent gown, her dark hair waterfalling down her shoulder. The light blue color complemented her dark olive skin beautifully. She almost looked like an angel.

"Let's get downstairs, shall we?" Madeline pulled Layla along, the heels making it more difficult to travel down the stairs. How did people like Madeline look graceful in heels all the time? Layla could only imagine how awkward and uncoordinated she looked to others.

Below, the gathering had already begun. Hundreds of people littered the large mansion, a live pianist playing gentle tunes from the ballroom. The courtyard held even more people, all in bespoke suits or expensive gowns. Layla looked back at Madeline, who was already waving to people and walking them over to a small group.

"I thought you said a _small_ party, Madi," Layla grumbled.

"This _is_ small, Lay," Madeline rolled her eyes. They reached their destination and soon found themselves surrounded by socialites from every circle. Everyone greeted Madeline kindly, throwing curious glances in Layla's direction. After the chatter died down, a voice finally asked the question on everyone's mind.

"Mayor Price, won't you introduce your friend to us?"

 _And here I was hoping no one would notice me._

"This," Madeline started as she forcibly brought Layla forward, "is Layla Williams." The circle still seemed unappeased. "She's on the short list to be my new political advisor." That was what they needed to hear. Suddenly, everyone was marveling over her dress, her hair, her shoes, everything. Luckily, Madeline sensed her unease. "It was lovely catching up with all of you, but we do have more guests to greet. Thank you for coming!" Without waiting for a response, Madeline and Layla were briskly walking away, giggling like middle schoolers.

"Imagine if you'd told them I'm your gardener," Layla snorted. Madeline stifled a laugh as they made their way over to the refreshment table. She plucked two large glasses of red wine from the table, handing one to Layla. They both took a long sip before daring to look at each other. And as soon as they made eye contact, they began to laugh again.

This was nice. Being out of her house with a friend was nice. Drinking wine in a place other than her living room was nice. And then, the worst happened.

"Hey, I'm going to go say hi to an old friend, but you go around, mingle!" Madeline said, already walking away and ignoring Layla's terrified expression. "You'll do great, Lay!" Layla's hand shook for a moment. She downed the glass in her hand, placing it back on the table and picking up a new one. There was only one place she felt comfortable.

She walked into the courtyard, avoiding people as much as possible. Since it was a bit chilly out, most of the crowd had migrated back into the manor, with a few people sticking around the foyer. Layla migrated further into the courtyard, finding a secluded corner to hide in. She sat down on the nearby bench, taking a sip of the wine in her hand. Something was off. Looking at the glass, she realized she'd grabbed the champagne instead of the red.

 _Nothing to celebrate,_ she thought, sighing at the glass. There was no way she was going inside to get a new glass, so she'd just have to drink it.

The last of the guests headed inside, and it sounded like a toast was being made. Layla was finally at peace. She lifted a hand, guiding the freshly planted peonies into bloom. They were planted to flower as a mosaic of different colors, and even in the dim garden lighting, they looked lovely. Within a few moments, the smell of fresh flowers rose into the air, refreshing and clean. Layla sipped her champagne, leaning back and balancing on her palm. She didn't belong in a mansion full of wealthy upper-class decision makers. This was where she belonged, with her flowers.

 _Maybe under flowers._

The thought was intrusive and depressing, but somehow it didn't surprise her. She was so numb to her own loneliness and only now, when it was much too late, was she beginning to see that it was destructive and sad. Maybe it was time to give up. Before she could stop it, hot tears started to escape her eyes, disappearing in the dark satin of her dress. She set the glass down, holding herself as she cried for the first time in what felt like years.

"You look cold," a voice remarked from behind the bench. Somehow, it sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

She didn't have the energy to respond or move, tears still leaking down her face. Funny enough, she felt the most upset about ruining Madeline's makeup.

"You okay?" the same voice was closer now, almost right behind her. She hiccupped a sob, only now realizing how cold she was.

Before she could make up an excuse and tell the intruder that she was fine, she found a warm suit jacket placed around her shoulders. The heat from the jacket made her feel a bit safer, though she didn't quite know why. The person sat down next to her, keeping a small distance between them. She felt too embarrassed at the situation to look up. Maybe they'd just go away.

After a few minutes of them quietly waiting as she softly sobbed, she heard them shift. Maybe they were finally going to ask for their jacket back and leave her alone.

"Layla?"

The voice sounded painfully familiar, and she started to realize just who was sitting next to her. She looked up after a moment to confirm her suspicion.

"Warren."

Neither one knew what to say. They simply looked at each other for a moment. He was handsome as ever, his brown eyes inquisitively probing her own for answers. His hair was still long, she noted appreciatively, but tied up in a neat bun. He'd grown a little bit of facial hair, but not enough to definitively call a beard. He still had such kind eyes… Usually, they were obscured by his hardened façade but in this moment, they were both vulnerable, and his eyes were unguarded and deep. He radiated concern, but didn't reach to touch her, and didn't try to make any more conversation.

Layla finally looked away, uncomfortable with his gaze.

"It would have been embarrassing if you were a stranger," she whispered, "but now that it's you, it's mortifying." She heard him sigh, glancing at him to check. He was still looking at her.

"What's so mortifying?" he asked, his voice only marginally louder than hers. "We're friends."

"Friends?" She knew she could have initiated contact all these years, but right now, she just needed to be upset. "You haven't spoken to me in nearly five years and we're friends?"

"Layla…"

"No, Warren, you can't walk up to me after all this time and claim to be my friend. Where were you when Will was being an ass? Or when my mom left?" she began to raise her voice, which was very out-of-character. She knew these things had nothing to do with Warren, they'd just been inside so long that it was all slowly unraveling. "Where were you when I needed someone, when I couldn't be everyone's person to rely on?" She'd begun crying again. The peonies were softly wilting. "Where was everyone when I needed them?" The flowers were back to buds, her face in her hands, body shaking with anger, sadness, whatever this feeling was.

His hand gently rubbed her shoulder, not knowing how else to offer help. It was obvious that she'd been struggling, and he felt guilty for not keeping in touch. Truthfully, he'd have done anything to help her, and he still would.

"Hey," he said, distracting her from her current pain, "do you want to skip out on all of this?" She met his eyes once more, looking defeated. "We can get some Chinese food. The Paper Lantern is just a few minutes away, my car is parked close by." She blinked, thinking. She nodded, and he released the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Come on," he smiled, extending his hand. She stared at it, unsure of whether to take him up on his offer. Then she looked at his face again. His eyes. She needed to escape herself right now and he was offering a great alternative.

 _Don't be an idiot,_ she thought _, just go. You can forget about him tomorrow._

She gingerly grasped his hand, still shaking a little. He helped her stand up, walking her to the valet in the front. He could feel her shiver under his jacket, and without a thought, he began to heat his hands, rubbing them up and down her sides. She leaned into him a little, causing his breath to catch. After all this time, Warren still had a soft spot when it came to Layla.

When they got close enough, he gestured for the valet to get his car. Warren looked down at her; even with makeup running down her face, she was stunning. Within a minute, the car was running and ready to go.

"Alright, hippie, let's get out of here."

* * *

It was late, but Warren had cashed in a favor with the owner to stay open another hour. They'd been silently sitting in a corner booth, meals set in front of them, neither touching their food. Warren looked up at her every so often, Layla only looking down at her plate. Finally, he'd had enough.

"We can talk, or we can continue to sit here in silence," he crossed his arms on the table. "Choice is yours, hippie."

"Don't call me hippie," she muttered, glaring at him momentarily before returning her gaze to her plate.

"Oh, so you're still mad at me, huh?"

"I'm not mad at you." She sunk into the booth, crossing her arms too.

"Really? Because you seem pretty mad."

"I'm _not_ mad. Stop saying that."

"Sure, because _that's_ not mad."

" _Warren!_ " Layla didn't realize how loud her voice was until she saw that every employee had stopped and stared at them. She sheepishly looked down at her plate once more.

"Layla, please talk to me," he begged, leaning forward to get a little closer to her. "I just want to help. Let me help."

 _Sure, let him in, just like you let Will in._

She sighed, looking up at him. He didn't deserve to be grouped in with jerks like Will, and he obviously wasn't going to give up anytime soon.

"You've missed a lot, Warren."

He sighed, uncrossing his arms and leaning back.

"I know," he said, "and I want to make up for it. Let me be here for you now."

"Fine," she accepted. Then, she looked around. "But… not here."

He shrugged, signaling an employee for the check. Layla began to protest, but one look from him and she was quiet as a church mouse. The waiter brought over the bill and two boxes, and she packed it all up while he signed. Quiet as they came in, they were gone.

The ride to Layla's house was silent, save for the occasional glowering from one or the other. Warren had forgotten how large Layla's house was; they'd studied there quite a few times in high school, and each time he marveled at the place. Compared to his childhood home, it was a paradise.

"Are you coming?" she asked, already a few feet ahead of him. He blinked, releasing the thoughts.

"Sorry," he said, joining her quickly, "I spaced." They walked to the front door quietly, distantly. Layla handed Warren his jacket back, reaching her palm out near a hanging flower pot. The flowers slowly grew, pulling a key out of the soil and placing it in her palm. She unlocked the door, returning the key to the pot. "That's not safe, you know." She scoffed, gesturing to where they were; rich suburban Maxville. She could have left her key taped to the door and nothing bad would have happened.

He didn't know why, but this made him feel much more at ease.

She placed the food in the kitchen, opening the fridge. He noted that there was barely any food, just several bottles of wine and a few condiments. She removed a bottle of red, plucking a glass from the open cabinet and pouring herself a generous amount.

"Easy there," he commented, moving a little closer. She looked up at him, stopping momentarily. Then, making full eye contact, she filled the glass more, leaving it about a third empty. She mechanically closed the bottle, putting it back in the fridge and looking at him again, gesturing to the bottles. He shook his head.

She quickly made her way over to the couch, choosing her normal spot in the corner. He took the other one, both still examining each other as if this wasn't real. Finally, after half her glass was emptied, Warren spoke.

"I remember coming here when we were kids," he said, watching her face fall a little. "Your mom once told me I was like an ostrich, large and angry." Layla laughed, but quickly stifled it, still unable to look at him. "She was always nice to me, despite my history." Ms. Williams had never judged him for his father's actions; she'd always told him that who _he_ chose to become was the only thing of importance. "Where is she nowadays?"

She looked resigned, sipping slowly.

"There's a long answer and a short answer," she sighed. "Which do you want?"

"Both." She gently nudged her shoes away, pulling her feet up in front of her. She stared at them, pretending to be fixated with the red marks the heels had left on her. He didn't push, just patiently waited for her to be ready. He was being too considerate.

"Short answer," she began, "is that she's travelling the world." He looked like he wanted to remark, but he kept quiet, continuing to wait for her. "Long answer…" she choked a little bit, sighing to release the tension. She hadn't talked to anyone about this, not even Madeline. She didn't want the looks she was sure to get when people knew. "Mom was diagnosed with cancer."

She glanced up to gauge his reaction, but he was still stony, unwilling to be anything but supportive. Even if it annoyed her in the moment, somewhere inside she appreciated it.

"Ewing's sarcoma, a bone cancer. She found out around the time I was graduating. It was in a late stage, and that type of cancer has a high mortality rate. You know mom," Layla dryly laughed, "she refused to go out full of chemicals and radiation. So, she decided to travel the world and aid animals all over the globe in finding peace and freedom." She set her glass down on the coffee table, hugging her knees closer to her chest. "She's off doing great work all over the globe while she's _dying_ , and I'm alone here, putting my talents to waste. She must be so ashamed of me. Maybe that's why she's gone." Warren wanted so badly to shake her out of this, but she needed the cathartic release of walking through the problem herself. "She didn't even ask me before she left," she whispered, the hurt in her voice nearly heartbreaking. Warren was still guarding his emotions, moving a little closer to her and trying to figure out how to best offer support. She patiently waited for the usual responses to a sad story. 'I'm sorry.' 'That's terrible.' 'It'll be okay.'

"None of that was your fault," he said. She looked up, surprised to see his eyes softening on her. "You're not to blame for this happening, for her not catching it sooner, for her decided to leave here," he continued, moving closer with each assertion. Finally, he was right in front of her, almost too close for comfort. "You're not putting anything to waste. You're doing the best you can, and right now, that should be enough."

He extended a hand, offering little physical relief, but she needed more. Without thinking it through, her arms were around him in a painfully tight hug, sinking into his body. His hands hovered for a moment, surprised at the unexpected affection, but soon after he was holding her like he wished he would have sooner. She needed someone to show her they cared, and he was happy to oblige; it broke his heart to watch her fall apart like this.

They stayed like that for a good long while, taking in every detail of the other. Though the room was dead silent, it was comfortable. In that moment, Warren promised himself something. He knew she was going to break, and he vowed he'd be there to piece her back together.

* * *

 **That was a quick update! The idea for this chapter was fresh in my mind, and I figured it's easier to gauge a story as more of the plot unfolds, so I wanted to get it out as soon as I could! For the following chapters, expect updates every week or so! Like I said, I'm exploring Layla's character and her complexities, and right now, she's in a bad place. It's going to be a sad story, so brace yourself!**


	3. Ignited

**Hey guys! Lorde's new album,** ** _Melodrama_** **, came out recently and I'm loving it! One song in particular reminds me of times in my life, and coincidentally, the place where Layla is now. If you want to immerse yourself further into the story, give** ** _Liability_** **a listen :)**

 **Warning: This story includes depictions of depression and suicidal thoughts, as well as mention of domestic abuse, sexual assault, and other serious topics.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Sky High or any of its characters.**

* * *

The dull pounding in Layla's head woke her from an otherwise deep and peaceful sleep. Truthfully, it was the first time in months she'd felt rested. She glanced at the bedside clock; it was only 6 AM, though she didn't quite remember what time she'd come up. She wasn't even sure how she'd gotten upstairs. The last thing she remembered was sitting on the couch…

Warren.

Slowly, the events of the evening started to slip back into order, starting with her leaving without telling Madeline. Quickly, she found her phone nearby and dialed the Mayor.

"Layla?"

"Madi, I'm so sorry, I…"

"Save it," Madeline swiftly cut her off. "You're safe, that's all I care about." After a moment's pause, "You _are_ safe, right?"

"Yes," Layla sighed, holding her head to ease the hammering in her skull. "I'm at home. Also," she stared down at her body, "it seems I fell asleep in the dress. I'll have it cleaned and…"

"Nonsense," Madeline cut her off once more. "I have to send my dress and a few other things. Just give it to me next time you come by."

"Are you sure?" Layla guiltily conceded. This was how 90% of their interactions went; Madeline would take total control of whatever the situation was and Layla would stick around for the ride, not that she minded. It was nice to have someone else taking care of her.

"Absolutely," Madeline said, pausing briefly. "So… where _did_ you go last night?"

"Well, if you'd have let me finish…" Layla smiled as she heard Madeline scoff on the other end. "I left with… an old friend." She was still trying to run through everything she'd told him yesterday; she'd said far too much.

"Old friend?" Madeline probed, unconcerned with Layla's obvious discomfort with the topic.

"Yes, old friend," she continued. "He took me…"

" _HE?_ "

Layla mentally chastised herself for giving Madeline the impression that she'd gone home with a man… though, that _was_ what she'd done. Regardless, she'd never hear the end of it.

"He's just a friend, Madeline," she clarified, hoping it would be enough and knowing it wouldn't.

"Sure, sure," Madeline giggled. "Hey, wanna have brunch later? I can send a car for you whenever you're ready and you can tell me all about the _old friend_."

Layla sighed, rolling her eyes. "Sounds fine. Text you when I'm ready?"

"Yeah! See you later!"

She set the phone down, aimlessly walking to the bathroom. One look in the mirror was all she needed; she looked like hell. Black was streaked down her face, her French twist completely undone. The dress was the only nice thing that remained. She carefully removed the lovely gown, neatly folding it and placing it on the bed before returning to the bathroom. Before anything else, the headache needed to be addressed; she rummaged through the mirror cabinet and finally found the Advil, popping two and swallowing without water. When she closed the cabinet, she was forced to look at herself again.

 _Why are you doing this to yourself?_

A thorough scrubbing of her face and body had her looking less like someone returned from the dead and more human. After toweling off, she brushed her teeth and tied her long, wet hair into a loose bun, entering her room in search of clothes. As usual, she settled on a long-sleeved, loose-fitting top and a pair of well-worn jeans. Today's color was a dark shade of forest green.

 _I haven't worn green in a long time,_ she sighed, looking at herself in the full-length mirror. It made her feel like she was in high school again, and high school reminded her of Will.

She started down the stairs, still adjusting the new maroon top. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she looked up at the living room.

 _Oh_.

A sleeping Warren Peace was awkwardly strewn on her couch, limbs unable to fit on the small piece of furniture. She carefully walked into the living room, unsure of how to address this situation. When she crossed the room, she stopped, her eyes caught on his sleeping form. He looked so peaceful, tension released from his body, mouth slightly slack, hair undone. She decided not to bother him, staring a little longer. As if he sensed it, his eyes opened, blinking a few times to focus before falling on her. Her own eyes widened with embarrassment, turning away and promptly walking into the kitchen. He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"What time is it?" he asked, stretching as he stood up and followed her. He ran his hand through his wavy hair, offering her a smile. She glanced over, looking away again when she realized he was staring at her too.

"Nearly seven," she replied after checking the microwave display. She filled her kettle with water, setting it on the stove. He quickly picked it up before she could turn the stove up, setting it in his palm and powering up. She crossed her arms, unimpressed.

"What?" Once he could feel the water boiling, he set the kettle back down on the stove for her.

"I could have heated it myself," she replied, pouring herself a cup. She looked up at him, holding a second cup. He nodded, prompting her to pour him one as well.

"Then what's the point of having a walking fire for a friend?" he joked, smiling. A long time ago, she would have laughed, but today she was still feeling uncomfortable with everything she'd said to him. She should have kept quiet and told him to go home. "Hey," he inched closer, interrupting her inner dialogue, "just a joke. I won't use my powers again if you don't want me to." Now she just felt bad.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, fetching the homemade tea bags and plopping one in each cup. It was her own perfect blend; energizing, slightly sweet, and earthy. "Use them all you want, they're your powers. I didn't mean to be rude." He was looking at her with a tinge of shock, as if he didn't understand apologies.

"Why do you do that?" He shook his head.

"Do what?" she asked.

"Apologize when you don't need to." He leaned against the counter, accepting the cup she offered and taking a sip. The tea smelled of honeysuckle; her favorite plant, he remembered. She sipped her own, staring into the tea to keep from staring at him. "Forget it," he shrugged, smiling again.

Warren took the current silence as a chance to just look at her. This Layla was much more like the one he remembered; no makeup, simple clothes, and messy hair. She could have been wearing a sack and she still would have looked gorgeous, though she wasn't aware of that. Of course, without the makeup it was easier to see that she hadn't been sleeping.

"Breakfast?" he offered, gesturing to the door and setting the mug down. She shook her head, setting her tea down, emptying the kettle in the sink, and picking up her mug once more. "So when _do_ you eat?" Her eyes shot up almost angrily.

"That's not your concern," she replied coldly.

"When was the last time you took care of yourself?"

She was pensive, still not paying much attention to what he was saying.

"Layla?" He walked a little closer. Her brow was furrowed, one hand tightly gripping onto the counter and the other holding her cup. "Layla," he tried to get her attention. Her knuckles were turning white. Her eyes closed, body quivering a little. Finally, he was right next to her, looking down at her bright red hair. "Layla…" he gently touched her shoulder.

The mug crashed into the counter, startling them both. Without missing a beat, Layla picked up the bigger pieces, throwing them into the trash. She began to walk off, presumably to find more cleaning supplies, but was stopped by two strong hands on her shoulders, pulling her back.

"Layla."

She was face to face with him and much too close. Layla suddenly felt extremely vulnerable. She began to recognize the faint smell of smoke that characterized Warren. She wanted to fall apart right then and there, let her life break into pieces, let him hold her.

 _He'll walk away, too._

"Layla, I want to be here for you," he said, voice low and deep.

"I don't need you," she spat back, eyes narrowing. He'd just leave her anyways. Better this way.

"Bullshit," his eyes narrowed to match hers. "You're a mess if I've ever seen one. And you can't pull yourself out of this, that much is obvious." She looked away, but that was short lived. He pulled her chin up, bringing her eyes back to his. "I care about you, and I don't like seeing you like this."

"Like what?" Her voice was angry, but everything inside of her was just upset.

"Beaten," he whispered, softening his gaze on her and tilting his head slightly. "Some things in your life went wrong and it hurts, but you've let it destroy you. You deserve to be happy."

"My life went wrong, Warren." She was seething. Who was he to tell her what she'd done or who she'd become? "Nothing to do, nothing to fix, everything's wrong. I can't fix anything anyways."

"Why not?" he released her, hands flying as he spoke. Suddenly, she felt much smaller. "Layla, you were – you _are_ one of the strongest people I know. You always fixed everyone's problems and found a peaceful resolution to any issue. You helped me to forgive my father and forgive myself, too." She hugged her arms to her body, rubbing them as if that would make her feel better. He looked at her, small and tired.

 _How did I get here?_

"I'll be back, okay?" he lowered his voice, stepping a little closer to her. She nodded, sure that he wouldn't return. As soon as he registered her answer, he was grabbing his coat and out the door and she slumped against the counter with a relieved sigh. Being around him was striking up feelings she wasn't ready to face just yet.

 _What did you expect?_

She sighed again, looking at the dull, broken remains of her morning tea. Later. Now, she'd call Madeline.

* * *

"So?" she pried, the now cold platter of French toast forgotten. Layla's plate was untouched, as usual.

"So what?" Layla replied, uncomfortably cross-legged as the wait staff removed their plates. She'd never get used to people waiting on her, and she was always a little surprised at just how okay Madeline was with it. Then again, she grew up as a wealthy socialite's daughter and at some point, she must have just become unfazed by it. Sometimes she forgot that even without the title of Mayor, Madeline was one of the most rich and powerful people in Maxville.

"'So what'," Madi mocked as they slowly migrated to the parlor in the front. "So what about this mysterious man of mystery?" They chose their usual pearl white couch, settling and holding the olive throw pillows as if they were gossiping in high school again.

"So nothing," Layla sighed, her mind unwantedly wandering back to Warren's sleeping form on her couch, how his lips were perfectly parted, his face perfectly serene. How her body had felt electric when he gave her even the smallest touch…

"Earth to Lay," Madeline waved an arm in front of her until she blinked, returning her gaze to the giggling woman in front of her. "You call that nothing? I'd like to see what something looks like!"

Layla groaned causing Madeline to erupt into a laughter that infected her too. It was hard not to smile when Madi was around, she was just so damn positive.

"Seriously though," she sobered and draped herself over the couch, "tell me about your _old friend_."

"Stop saying 'old friend' like that," Layla interjected, "it sounds perverted!"

"That's the _point_ ," she laughed. "So?"

 _She won't stop asking._

"He's…" What words could she even use to describe Warren? He was tortured, brooding, angry, but he'd grown out of it all into an immaculate man who was too good for her. She'd dreamt of him a few times after she and Will had broken up, but now it seemed an absolute fantasy. "Persistent." Madeline gave her a confused look, as if to say ' _that's_ what you're going with?'. "It doesn't matter, I probably won't see him again."

Madeline's brow furrowed, "Why not?!"

"I just don't think he'll stick around is all," she continued, her gaze falling with a tinge of disappointment. It was for the best, he didn't to be held down by her problems.

"Then it's his loss," Madeline remarked, cutting off Layla's negative thoughts with a reassuring smile. "You're worth more than a man who doesn't know he's got a goddess."

"Madi," Layla chided. "We weren't even seeing each other. I told you, he's just a friend from a long time ago." Madeline giggled.

"And I don't even get a name?" she coaxed, giving her best pleading eyes. "I just want to make sure I haven't slept with him or something!" Layla laughed, throwing her pillow at her shameless friend. "Was he at my party?"

"He was," she said, playing with her fingers uncomfortably. She never liked talking about her love life, even though she always felt at ease with Madeline.

"I don't think I know anyone you know," she shrugged, falling deep into thought. Knowing Madeline, she was probably running the entire guest list through a mental shredder. After a moment, she shook her head. "Anyways," she smiled, "have you thought any about the advisory positon?"

Truthfully, she hadn't. She was prepared to decline on Monday, but the more she thought about it, maybe it would be an interesting change of pace. Maybe she'd be good at it. And maybe she'd stop feeling so dejected every time she thought of her friends and their perfect careers.

"Can we do a week of trial?" Layla meekly suggested. "You know, so both of us can feel it out and if we don't like it, I can just go back to the garden." Madeline's smile just kept growing.

"Absolutely," she grinned, extending her hand to 'seal the deal'. Layla gently took it, her whole body shaking with Madeline's strong handshake. Suddenly, she was the perfect Ms. Mayor, serious demeanor and all. "You'll have an office in town hall a few doors down from mine, we'll sign contracts on Monday, come ready to work." In the blink of an eye, she'd transformed back into Layla's quirky friend. "I'm so excited!" Before there was even a second to celebrate, Madeline's assistant was barreling into the room.

"Ms. Price!" he gasped out, catching his breath. "Ms. Price, there's a visitor, he insisted on seeing you." Madeline looked irked, but gave Connor a gracious smile anyways.

"I'll just be a minute, and then we can pop open a bottle of red to celebrate," she reassured me, heading into the front room. Layla settled into the couch further, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

Madeline's form quickly left the room, the click of her heels almost comforting. They stopped abruptly as soon as she entered the other room.

"Mr. Peace," her voice icily reverberated through the mansion.

 _Oh no._

Layla scrambled to her feet, nearly running into the other room. She walked in on a silent stare off; Madeline was guarded, her eyes cutting through the room and meeting Warren's equally stony gaze. As soon as Layla entered, his eyes fell on her, softening with a smile.

"Layla," he said endearingly, in that way that made her heart melt a little. Madeline was just glaring at this point. Warren started to approach Layla, but Madeline stepped between them, crossing her arms.

"Mr. Peace, what can I help you with?" she curtly stated.

"I actually came for Ms. Williams, Mayor Price," he replied smoothly, the aggravation in his voice barely perceptible. "We have plans for today, don't we?"

And suddenly, they were both staring at her, waiting for a response. She gulped.

"I wasn't sure if we did," she whispered, hugging her arms.

"We did," he responded, offering a smile. She couldn't help but smile back a little. "So, if you're ready, shall we leave?"

"Layla, I've still got your bag from yesterday," Madeline interrupted. "Would you be a dear and come with me to fetch it?" Layla nodded. She quickly found herself being pulled by the arm up the front stairs. Madeline didn't stop dragging her until they reached her dressing room. Layla began to look for her bag, but Madeline roughly pulled her back. "Is that your friend, Layla?" She sounded serious, almost concerned.

"Yes," Layla responded, rubbing her now sore arm.

"How do you know him?" she inquired further, now looking very concerned.

"We went to high school together," she responded more defensively than she'd intended. "He's a good…"

"If you're about to say he's a good guy, I can assure you he is not," Madeline cut her off, crossing her arms.

"W-what?"

"He's bad news, Lay." Layla had never seen Madeline so distraught.

"He's a good guy, Madi," she tried to reassure, but Madeline wasn't having it. "We used to be best friends when we were younger. We're just catching up."

"Layla, you don't understand," she whispered, pulling her closer. This Madeline was a stark comparison to the giggly gossiping one from before. "He's involved in some really illegal things; you don't know who you're dealing with."

 _What?_

"I trust him, Madi," Layla said, a little less sure of that statement. She spotted her bag, quickly grabbing it and looking at Madeline once more. "Don't worry, I'm perfectly safe." Layla gave her a reassuring smile before starting down the stairs.

Warren stood ready in a pair of slacks and a dress shirt, the first few buttons undone. He gave her a heartbreaking smile, running a hand through his loose, dark waves.

"Ready?" He put his hands in his pockets as she approached him, crossing her arms.

"How did you know I'd be here?" she questioned, still unsure.

"I have my ways," he coolly replied. After what Madeline had said, that was quite a suspicious statement. Before she could further inquire, he cut her off; "I need you to know I'm not abandoning you. Not again." She didn't know how to react, and he seemed to understand that, giving her a small smile. "Shall we?" he offered his arm, a gesture fit for a modern-day gentleman. She took it, letting him walk her out. She took one glance back, meeting Madeline's concerned eyes at the top of the staircase before heading out the door.

 _Who are you really, Warren Peace?_

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Leave me a review if you like it, or even if you don't, so I can keep improving! See you guys next week!**


End file.
